Page 48 of Surprise Baby for My Enemy Billionaire

Hayley Bretford

I lookup at my brother, a thin slice of anger adding itself to the heap of negative emotions swirling around in my head.

“They’re suggesting you’ve done this time and time again, and your latest stint was to get Gigi pregnant to win me the election,” he says.

“They are partly right,” I tell him, suddenly exhausted. I lean back on my chair, energy draining out of me by the second.

“I don’t care,” Theo says, his eyes alight as he rises to his feet. He looks less amused than he has all day. “Fix this. However you can. Because if you cost me the election, I willneverforgive you.”

CHAPTER19

GIGI

My phone rings again for the tenth time in a minute, and panic seizes me as I reach for it.

It’s Andrea.

My panic diminishes for a fraction of a second. I put the phone on silent and toss it away. It slides over my living room table and ends up on the other side of it. I stay on the couch, my legs tucked under my body and my arms wrapped around myself.

I’ve been in this position for more than twenty-four hours, ever since I saw that article and Hayley asked me to take some time off. I left the office, came straight home, and cuddled up on the couch.

I haven’t been able to tear myself away from social media all night, from poring through what the Internet thought of me and my pregnancy. And after five hours, I had a good idea.

The worldhatesme. I’m getting far more hate than even Brandon after my articles. I’m branded a hypocritical, fame-whoring, money-grabbing slut.

My phone rings again, and I’m relieved that it’s far away. All day, calls have been pouring in from Andrea, my parents, and friends whom I’d long lost contact with. There have also been tons of messages, half of them from news outlets asking for an interview.

I haven’t replied to a single one.

I can neverface anyone again. I’m certain of it.

My phone rings for the second time, irritation mixing with my relief. My head is tumultuous enough, and the last thing I want is to listen to my phone buzzing. I raise the top half of my body from the couch, sprawl over the floor, and reach for it.

The name that I spot on the top of the screen makes my fingers go numb.

It’s Bran.

I’m barely aware of what I’m doing when I pick up the phone and bring it up to my ear.

“I’m downstairs,” he says, his voice clipped and direct. He sounds like he’s continuing a conversation we’ve been having for months. “Buzz me up.”

A different kind of ache spreads inside me. I open my mouth to scream at him, to tell him to go to hell, to tell him I know he’d tried to seduce me and ended up ruining my life in the process.

But I can’t. I’m too exhausted to scream.

And I’m tired of being miserable alone.

I hang up the phone. My muscles protest as I force myself off the couch and to my feet. I struggle to the wall right beside my door, pushing my palm down on the button.

Bran knocks on my door within seconds.

I feel next to nothing as I pull the door open. He steps in, and I notice instantly that he looks…okay. Good. He looks the same as he always does, except that his handsome face is pulled into a frown.

“I need to talk to you,” he says. His fists are buried in his coat, and his eyes are empty as he looks down at me. “The social media mob is ruining both our lives.”

Both?I think, but I’m too tired to even croak the word out. I’m hyper-aware of how awful I must look, with eyes sunken from lack of sleep, wrinkled joggers and T-shirt, and my hair a mop on my head.

“We need to come up with a strategy to keep them at bay,” he continues, not waiting for my input. “We need to shut down the ridiculous notion that this was a game I orchestrated…”

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